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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24025621">grey</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/whathegeometry/pseuds/whathegeometry'>whathegeometry</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Crying, Depression, Grey, Haze - Freeform, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Unrequited Love, Why Did I Write This?, kind of, the Big Sad, the author is definitely not fiercely projecting on stan, there's not really comfort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:14:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,030</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24025621</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/whathegeometry/pseuds/whathegeometry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He felt like something inside him was missing, that he wasn't whole. It made him feel empty and grey and one-note, and he wasn't as much sad as just grey.</p><p>Stan would have killed for a good cry.</p><p>But the grey didn't let him feel.</p><p>--</p><p>A different take on Stan's depression. Trigger warning for depression, mentions of self-harm.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bill Denbrough &amp; Stanley Uris, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>grey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>{disclaimer: these are stephen king's characters and i don't claim to own them in any way. i am not profiting off of this work.}</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Light from the window passed across the room as a solitary car drove past Stanley's house.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Not many cars passed this late at night, so on nights like these, Stan was usually stuck alone in the darkness with only his thoughts.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>When his thoughts were left alone, they wandered.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>When Stanley Uris's thoughts wandered, they usually settled on one Bill Denbrough.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>--</em>
</p><p> </p><p>They were 12.</p><p>They were at the quarry, standing at the edge of the drop, and Stan was afraid, but Bill's hand on his back made it better, somehow. Every time he jumped the edge, he would have a moment of fear... but the touch of Bill's rough skin against the small of his back sent soft electricity spiraling through his stomach.</p><p>"Here, w-we'll jump t-t-together," Bill said with a smile. The warmth of that smile melted away any reservations he'd had.</p><p>Bill offered his hand, and Stan took it.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The clock on Stan's bedside table read 12:02.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He wasn't falling asleep for a while yet.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He felt like something inside him was missing, that he wasn't whole. It made him feel empty and grey and one-note, and he wasn't as much </em>
  <em>sad as just grey.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He would have killed for a good cry.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>But the grey didn't let him feel.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>--</em>
</p><p> </p><p>They were 13. </p><p>He was sitting on a hay bale in Mike's barn, watching Bill and Richie exchange raunchy jokes. It was too late at night, and Stan was starting to think, and his world was slowly turning grey again.</p><p>So he did the only thing that ever broke the monotony.</p><p>He found Bill.</p><p>"Hey, Bill?" Stan said, tapping the boy on the shoulder, interrupting a particularly risqué joke regarding the sexcapades of Richie's sister. Seeing the look on Stan's face, Bill put his arm around him. </p><p>"Bill, I need to talk to you. Can we go... somewhere?"</p><p>"Sh-sure. Rich, is th-that o-okay?" Bill asked. Richie nodded, seeing the same look of... something indescribable in Stan's face, and got up to find Eddie.</p><p>Bill led Stan up a ladder to the roof of Mike's barn, and just in time. Stan felt the wall of grey in his heart flower with cracks, and then all of a sudden it shattered, and the color flooded back, in all its harsh, bright glory, and Stan was sobbing. </p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>12:47.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He felt the greyness close around him, threatening to swallow him whole.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He had contemplated suicide before, thought about slicing his skin to release the red the grey kept hidden, but he knew it would only release the red, the anger, the fear. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It wouldn't break the grey. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>--</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Bill held Stan as sobs ripped themselves from his throat. Stan's tears soaked the chest of Bill's shirt, his arms held Bill's back in a death grip. Bill was the only thing keeping him anchored as the color swept around him, his rock, his constant point. After a short eternity, the colors swirling in Stan's mind slowed down, and his sobbing became crying became sniffling until he was finally coherent.</p><p>"S-stan, g-g-god, are y-you o-okay?"</p><p>Stan smiled sadly. "No, Bill. I'm not okay."</p><p>Bill just held him tight. </p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>1:22.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Stan reached beside his head for a journal and a pen, but he couldn't think of anything to write. Nothing interesting had happened.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Nothing interesting ever happened.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Not anymore.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>--</em>
</p><p> </p><p>They were 14, three months ago.</p><p>Bill was sleeping over at Stan's house, and they were watching a movie, when Stan felt the grey wash over him in a sudden wave of doubt. It whispered in his ear like a snake. <em>You're not good enough, </em>it said. <em>You're fat and ugly and awkward. None of your friends really love you, least of all him. </em></p><p>"Bill, I have to tell you something," Stan said carefully. Bill sat, attentive, with a look of kind concern on his face.</p><p>"There's this... thing that happens to me sometimes. It's just this... feeling, and I can't get rid of it- it's like, this thing where you really want to cry, or scream, or laugh, or just <em>feel something</em>, but you don't, and you can't, and then all that feeling gets bottled up and you just keep doubting yourself and not feeling any of it, and then the world just seems grey, and then when the color comes back it hurts and you don't want it and then you slip back into the grey... does that make sense?"</p><p>The admission melted the grey away, and the color came back, but this time it didn't hurt.</p><p>"G-g-god, Stan, I had n-no id-dea... what can I d-d-do?"</p><p>"Just stay with me?"</p><p>"Always."</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>1:58.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Stan hugged himself and screamed into his pillow.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Nothing was helping.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He looked on his nightstand for his phone, opened it, and selected Bill's contact.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>After that night when Stan had told Bill everything, Stan had called Bill every time he'd felt grey, no matter how late. Bill had listened intently as he'd processed all his feelings, sympathized with him, joked around to make him feel better, even sometimes visited his house. It was one of these times when Stan had made the biggest mistake of his life.</p><p>It had been 2:30 in the morning. Bill's arm was wrapped around Stan, sending slow pulses of that soft electricity trough his skin, when Stan decided he couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't lie to Bill anymore. He felt the colors wrap around him, benevolent, filling him with confidence.</p><p>The colors that Bill had brought back to his life.</p><p>Stan pulled out of the embrace and took both of Bill's hands. "You might have to leave after I say this, okay?"</p><p>"What could possibly make me want to leave?"</p><p>"This," Stan said, and then he kissed him.</p><p>Bill didn't kiss him back, and he pulled away a second after.</p><p>The look of disgust and betrayal in Bill's eyes was enough to turn all the colors in the world into bright knives cutting into Stan's chest. </p><p>"I think you should go."</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Stan put his phone back on the nightstand.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He couldn't call Bill anymore.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He'd ruined that.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Maybe, just maybe</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He deserved to live alone in his world of grey.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>my first fic without a happy ending... comment if you cried?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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